Forbidden (13 page)

Kadesh’s only response was another brief nod.

Abimelech clapped his hands on his knees. “Let’s see this great weapon, young stranger.”

“Girls,” Aunt Judith said smoothly. “Time to clean up and let the men talk of weapons and alliances and raids.”

Leila gave me a nudge. “Will they be comparing the size of their weapons or each other?”

I rolled my eyes. Scooping leftover rice into a pot, I watched the men huddle around Kadesh’s sword, discussing its intricate pattern, the strength of the brass, the well-crafted hilt.

Horeb gazed at Kadesh. “Where did you say you purchased it?”

Kadesh held the blade flat against his palm. “Actually, I didn’t. The sword was a gift. Purchased in the city of Babylon, but originally crafted in Damascus, where swordmakers are experimenting with various metals and styles.”

“A fine gift, indeed,” Horeb said, hinting that he’d like to know who the gift giver was, but Kadesh didn’t take the bait. “These etchings are interesting. What do they represent?”

I watched Kadesh stiffen and then force himself to relax.
“Merely family markings of ownership.”

Horeb was clearly annoyed at the nonanswers. Then he glanced at me, catching me gazing at Kadesh. I averted my eyes and began to sweep crumbs from the rug. How many other secrets was Kadesh hiding? Then it came to me. Kadesh’s closed mouth had everything to do with frankincense. His uncle had probably given him the blade to defend himself on this journey
because
he carried frankincense. I wondered if the etchings were the personal markings of frankincense grove owners. A secret that must be kept at all costs.

Sudden clarity washed over me. Kadesh had trusted my father and me, to tell us of his family business and the attack that wounded him. As far as I was aware, he’d said nothing to Leila, even if he did give her a peculiar look every now and then, which I still had not figured out. Tonight he was being purposely evasive, and after the way he’d brought his lips to my palms back in the canyon, I knew I would keep his secret until I died.

Before I could remove another empty dish, Horeb pulled his sword from his belt and whipped it through the air, letting the evening sunset glint off its bronze surface. “Let’s see how sturdy your sword really is, stranger.”

“You may call me Kadesh.”

Horeb shrugged, as if calling Kadesh by his actual name was too much bother.

Before Kadesh could answer the call to raise his own sword, Horeb ran forward, swinging his sword straight at him. I gasped as Kadesh fell to the ground to avoid a direct hit.
Scrambling to his feet, he grasped the hilt of his weapon with both hands, returning the thrust with one of his own. There was a ringing sound as the two weapons made contact.

Abimelech clapped his hands. “Excellent. You’ve got a quick adversary, son.”

My father didn’t speak, his face disapproving as he crossed his arms over his chest. I was sure he didn’t like that Kadesh and Horeb were fighting, even if was supposedly just for sport.

Before I could leave the area and disappear into the tent with Judith and Hakak, Horeb turned on his heel and came at Kadesh again. Their swords clashed a second time, slamming so hard I thought their arms would snap. I let out a cry, wanting to look away, but I couldn’t. A strange force compelled me to watch, even as I swayed on my feet, my sense of dread growing.

Dust kicked up around the campsite as the sparring grew more serious. Horeb was huskier, wider in the shoulders, thicker in his arms, but he wasn’t as tall as Kadesh, and he couldn’t move with as much speed. The two swords struck repeatedly and the high-pitched sound vibrated the air with such a clanging I clapped my hands over my ears.

The other girls hurried out of the tent again. “What’s going on?” Leila came up and slipped her arm through mine. I tried to be nonchalant and purposely made an effort not to grip her hand too tightly. It would show that I cared too much, and I didn’t want to betray my true feelings for either boy.

Hakak shook her head. “I suppose they have to make sure
their swords actually work—and find out which man is the better fighter.”

Aunt Judith tried to end the match. “I have fresh-ground coffee beans. Let’s return to the fire.” The men paid no attention and Judith stuck her hands on her hips, motioning to my uncle Abimelech to stop the fight.

Horeb seemed to grow impatient to strike Kadesh to the ground, but Kadesh was too quick and lithe. They circled each other with such intensity it was clear this had become much more than a friendly sparring match.

“If your sword is truly a magnificent blade from Damascus,” Horeb called out, “you should have already taken me down.”

Kadesh merely smiled, which seemed to infuriate Horeb even more.

I shuddered as Horeb attacked again, but this time, instead of one or two thrusts, he continued to lunge forward, his sword swinging wildly as he slashed at Kadesh, as if he was trying to plunge his sword straight into his chest.

I gasped, shocked at his aggressiveness. “He fights as though he wants to kill Kadesh!” I whispered hoarsely as Leila gripped my arm, as if she, too, was surprised. Only Judith seemed to take pride in her son’s fighting ability, her eyes alight with excitement every time Horeb got the upper hand.

Sweat dripped down both the boys’ faces as Kadesh deflected Horeb’s blade, but it was obvious Kadesh hadn’t realized how hard and fast Horeb was going to attack, and he barely managed to keep his face from getting sliced to ribbons.

The sun sank farther, and the fight moved out of the fire’s light and into the shadows as the two young men continued on.

“Why don’t they stop?” I whispered.

“Someone
will
get hurt,” Hakak murmured. “This is silly; what’s the point?”

Falail spoke up next. “How can they stop when their pride is now at stake?”

“It was supposed to be a friendly sparring for entertainment,” I said, beginning to get angry. And yet I couldn’t tear my eyes away. My heart thrashed against my chest in worry for Kadesh. Though another part of it beat in furious terror for Horeb’s life; if they did not stop, Kadesh would be blamed for ending it.

Regaining his footing, Kadesh suddenly stepped out of range of Horeb’s next thrust. Catching Horeb off guard, he twisted his opponent’s arm behind his back, which forced Horeb’s sword to fall to the ground.

Grunting and furious, Horeb swung his free arm across his body to punch Kadesh in the face. The blow found empty air as Kadesh ducked. “This wasn’t meant to be a fistfight,” Kadesh burst out.

Before Horeb could throw his fist again, Kadesh threw an arm around my cousin’s neck, pulled him tight against him, and then pressed his blade against the skin of Horeb’s throat. Immediately Horeb stopped struggling. The move to Horeb’s throat was an obvious sign that Kadesh was the winner. My betrothed didn’t move a muscle, but hatred filled his eyes.

A heartbeat of silence passed. Next to me, my father began to clap his hands until Uncle Abimelech joined in as well.

“An entertaining game,” Abimelech said, shrugging off his son’s defeat, returning to the hearth to pour coffee. “Not many have ever bested Horeb. And on another night our visitor probably wouldn’t again. It was pure luck that Kadesh gained the upper hand.”

I wanted to laugh at his words. Kadesh had obviously proven himself. He was the stronger opponent, not only in swordsmanship, but in strategy and tactics. Horeb was all swagger and boastfulness. He assumed he could knock Kadesh down within a few moves and prove his stature, but he failed. A smile came to my lips, and I ducked my head, hoping to hide my satisfaction.

Judith let out her breath, putting a hand to her chest in relief as the fight appeared to finally be over. “Let’s bring out the honeyed cake, Jayden,” she said, bringing me out of my thoughts. “As my future daughter-in-law, you may help serve.”

Clear across the camp, I saw Kadesh’s sudden intake of breath. I cringed at her words and felt Horeb’s black eyes bore into me, despite the deepening dusk. Hot tears pricked at me as I ducked my head to follow Aunt Judith.

Before I had taken more than a few steps, Kadesh picked up his sword and placed it back into the sheath at his waist. “A good match and well done,” he said to Horeb, bowing.

Horeb wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, staggering as he picked up his own weapon from the dirt. Gripping the handle in both fists, he swung around again as if to attack
Kadesh from behind, and I let out a cry, relieved when my father stepped between the two boys, barely escaping a glancing blow himself.

“I believe our evening is over,” my father said evenly. “Even though we’ve been here for two days my family is still in need of rest. I’ll join you for coffee tomorrow evening, Abimelech.”

Nothing else would stop Horeb faster than losing his audience.

As I began to walk back to our own tent, Aunt Judith came over and took my arm. “You know this wasn’t a real fight, Jayden. You must be assured that Horeb—”

I cut her off. “I know, Aunt Judith. You don’t need to say anything. This changes nothing about how I feel about Horeb and our betrothal.”

Of course, my aunt didn’t understand my double meaning. She embraced me and kissed my forehead. “Of course, Jayden. You are the perfect bride for him. Good night, sweet daughter.”

I hurried after my father, following the beam of his swinging lantern in the heavy dusk. The sun was a small, red ball of fire low on the horizon, but the light was virtually gone.

Leila caught up to me and held my hand. “Jayden, what was that fight about?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I see how Kadesh looks at you. Could they have been fighting over you?”

I laughed at her words, but my stomach clenched. “Why would you think that?” What had my sister observed? I’d been so careful to treat Kadesh and Horeb the same so that no one
would be suspicious of where my true affections lay. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s so romantic.”

“You’re being silly.”

Leila lowered her voice, whispering in the darkness. “You’re not fooling me, Jayden. Horeb might be your future husband, but Kadesh is the handsome stranger who can’t take his eyes off you.”

“Stop it! You’ll shame us both with such talk.”

“I’m only speaking of what I see. I seem to recall the day in the canyons when you both were caught in a rainstorm. After being gone a long time.” She smiled.

I gasped with denial as she giggled into my ear. “Nothing happened during that flash flood. I’d gone exploring and was just returning when the storm started. I was lucky Kadesh knew enough to tell me to run. He helped me get through the crevice safely, that’s all. If he hadn’t I wouldn’t be standing here today.”

Amusement played around Leila’s mouth. “Maybe so. But while I was resting and Father tending to the camels, I noticed Kadesh disappear into those cliffs and caverns, too. For quite a while. You’re saying that you didn’t see him at all?”

I didn’t want to lie to her, but I couldn’t confide the truth either. I couldn’t afford Leila whispering secrets to her best friend, Falail, who would go directly to Aunt Judith. “I wasn’t with Kadesh,” I finally said, cringing as I lied. “I may have seen him wandering from a distance, but I wasn’t paying any attention.”

“You say that, but I sense something brewing in the air, and I think Horeb does, too. That’s why the fight tonight got out of hand.”

“Believe me, Leila, this fight wasn’t about me at all,” I said firmly. “Horeb hardly gives me a second thought, and he probably won’t until our wedding. He’s too busy training and negotiating and receiving an education about a thousand different topics so he can step into Uncle Abimelech’s role one day. Horeb fought because he wanted to prove his merit as the future king of our tribe. He wanted—needed—to boost his own status in front of all of us. It was not about me.”

“He is a show-off,” Leila assented. “But you have to agree that Horeb’s handsome looks are spectacular, and he’s so muscular as well. Perhaps Kadesh
was
just lucky. Horeb is definitely the stronger of the two.”

I didn’t say a word, but it was fascinating to me how we’d both interpreted the same sword contest so differently. Horeb might be handsome in the usual manner, but Kadesh’s eyes were so striking it was like he’d appeared from a dream.

“I’ve seen Horeb fight in competitions before, and he never loses,” Leila went on. “See what you’ve been missing!”

“I’m not going to mourn over what I’ve missed,” I assured her. “I’m more worried that Horeb’s embarrassment tonight will fuel his ill feelings toward Kadesh.”

“Why?” Leila asked me too quickly. She was suspicious, I could tell. “It was just boys playing. Besides, don’t you find it flattering to have the boy you’re going to marry fight for you, even if it’s all in fun?”

I stopped for a moment in the starlight. Wispy clouds trailed across the full moon and a chill rushed through me. Tonight I was ending my sixteenth year. “Go on without me,” I told my sister. “I’ll be right there. I just want to look at the sky.”

“You’re such a romantic,” she said, laughing at me again.

Her previous statement left me breathless.
Don’t you find it flattering to have the boy you’re going to marry fight for you?
But Leila hadn’t specified Horeb in her words.

A moment later, I got angry at myself for being so foolish. The desert would have to be covered in ice before I’d have a chance of breaking the betrothal with Horeb. I’d been doomed to that end since I was born. My father and Abimelech would never agree to a renegotiation or contract breach. Now I understood how Leila felt when she said that she wanted to run away.

I’d crossed the threshold into womanhood, but it had been the longest weeks of my entire life. My mother’s last night alive was like a dream to me now. How I wished I’d talked to her before the party.

If anybody could have helped me break the betrothal, my mother could have.

I was running out of options.

E
very task I performed during the first weeks of summer in Tadmur reminded me of my mother, especially unpacking, when I placed her wedding chest in a corner of the tent where it would be safe from the cooking fire or spilled grease. Each time I glanced over, the chest brought back her last night—my betrothal ceremony—and the jewelry she’d kept there as a special gift just for me.

And now, two weeks into our stay here, baking the morning bread brought my mother’s memory to mind yet again. As I kneeled at the hearth, flattening a ball of dough, a shadow passed over me. I looked up to find Kadesh, watching me. He’d grown stronger as the days had ticked by—as his departure grew near . . . and as my wedding to Horeb inched closer.

“Jayden,” he said softly, and I shivered at the sound of his voice.

“Stop. Please,” I said, quickly glancing up at him and then back to my work. “We can’t be seen speaking to each other.”

“No one is around,” he replied, leaning in closer. “I know your secret.”

I sucked in my breath. “I have no secrets,” I replied. “Everyone here in camp knows everyone else’s gossip.”

“I know you’re afraid. And I know you despise Horeb. I’ve been watching both of you these past weeks.”

I shook my head as tears began to well up. Horeb and I had minimal interactions, but when we did speak, I always felt uncomfortable, wary, never sure how he would react. “Please. You must not talk like this.”

“Look at me, Jayden. Please know that I won’t let him hurt you.”

I stared at the pattern of the rug. One of my tears dropped onto the hot dome of the stove and sizzled from the heat. “I can’t. If I look at you, I know you will put a spell on me.”

“But you have already put a spell on
me
,” Kadesh said, his voice low. “I will be under your enchantment forever, and there is no going back. I only want to wipe away your tears.”

He reached up to touch my face and I shook my head, knowing that if I let him do that, I might let him do so much more. “No one can do that,” I said hopelessly. “It’s too late.”

“Jayden, it’s never too late. Trust me. Have faith that we will find a way.”

“If only it were true! But the betrothal—the ceremony—it’s done. It’s finished.”

He shook his head decisively. “It’s never too late until the
vows are taken, the contract signed, and the dowry accepted.”

Without meaning to, I raised my face when he said that, gathering hope in his words. He was closer than I expected, and a rush of longing rose from my toes to my chest.

Tenderly, Kadesh put his hand on my hot face, and my heart filled my throat, my body about to float off in a haze of fog, when he suddenly said, “Your bread is burning.”

“Oh!” I jumped back, and Kadesh tossed the blackened loaf into the sand.

“Your father will think you’re burning his tent down.” He retrieved a bucket of water, cooled down the stove, and waved at the billowing smoke with a small rug.

“Now go, go!” I said, flapping my hands.

He laughed, and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing in return.

“You’re dangerous, Jayden,” he said, gazing at me, his cloak swirling around his feet. “I fear you need to be kept under surveillance or you’ll set us on fire while we sleep.”

“I will if you keep distracting me from my tasks!”

As Kadesh backed out the tent door, he gave his characteristic princely bow and I tried to catch my breath.

Lying on my bed later that afternoon, I stared up at the ceiling, thinking back to that morning. If Horeb learned of our conversations, or had knowledge of the way Kadesh had clasped my hands and kissed my palm in the canyon—I could be accused of infidelity. Another reason never to confide in anyone, but nobody could intrude on my thoughts, or stop my daydreaming.

That night my sister didn’t come home for dinner. I worried about what antics she might be up to as I cleaned up the evening meal, peeking over the tent partition between the main room and the women’s quarters to listen to my father and Kadesh.

“How is your wound healing now that we’re settled?” my father asked.

“I feel completely well. And, sir, I’m afraid that I must speak with you about returning home to my family. I’d like to go into Tadmur and find a caravan to send a message to my uncle. Then I’ll spend a few days purchasing camels and getting supplies for the journey.”

“I think it would be wiser to find a caravan you can travel with,” my father told him.

“That’s true, and I plan to do exactly that, but I’ll still need my own animals and supplies.”

My father frowned as he stared out the tent door. I suspected he wasn’t ready to lose Kadesh. That he’d come to depend on him to help with some of the heavier labor, as well as company for the quiet nights now that he was a widower and alone.

“I will need help on our next raid,” my father said thoughtfully, changing the subject. “We plan to attack the Maachathites and get back the camels they stole from us. I could use a good swordsman like you. And a scout. You would be the perfect riding companion, as well as a negotiator if we need one.”

“Thank you, sir, but is it wise to go raiding so soon after the hard journey?” Kadesh asked, pouring my father another cup.

“Abimelech doesn’t plan to leave until after Hakak’s wedding, but Horeb has already sent out spies to scout the Maachathites’ location. We’re taking stock of our weapons. Discussing our routes. Fattening the camels.”

I threw the dregs of the teapot into the small fire behind the women’s curtain. There was a good chance Horeb, Abimelech, and my father would arrange the final wedding contract and dates while they were out on the desert—without my knowledge.

Perhaps I was only fooling myself when I hoped there might ever be a chance for me and Kadesh.

Stooping to scrub the pot, I gazed at the fires flickering across the valley of tents. The hearths had always symbolized home and comfort and peace. With my mother gone, so much of the comfort and peace had been replaced by loneliness and sorrow.

When the two men went off to join one of the neighbor’s hearths, I took the opportunity to slip away, too, heading out onto the moonlit path.

The air was cool in the evening and felt good on my skin as I walked. Images of my mother, Kadesh, Sahmril, and Leila and Horeb swirled in my head. So much had changed in so little time. Two new moons had come and gone since that tragic day. We had four months left of our season here at the Tadmur oasis, and before we left, I’d be married and chained to Horeb for the rest of my life.

There was gossip that my father could find a new wife by next year.
I
must
find a time to speak with him, alone
. There were
always too many relatives within earshot. I continued walking, pondering my dilemma, but voices from within Aunt Judith’s tent brought me back to reality.

Hakak spotted me and darted out to grab my hand. “I’m trying on my wedding jewels, Jayden! Come and see!”

I walked into the brightly lit tent. White linens had been laid out on the carpet. An array of jewels and beads and silver spread across the fine cloth. “They’re beautiful, Hakak,” I told her. “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride in all the tribe this summer.”

There was a pang in my chest, knowing how plain I was without my jewelry. How bare my neck felt—how empty my ears and wrists! My fingers hovered over a particularly sheer indigo piece of silk. I pictured myself wearing it, the material slipping over my shoulders, my thick hair falling down my bare back, the shadow of Kadesh hovering close by.

When I raised my head again, Aunt Judith was watching me as I stared at the wedding finery. “When you marry Horeb, you will have so many jewels and dresses, you won’t be able to pack them when it’s time to move.”

Hakak giggled and pulled me next to her, whispering, “As soon as my wedding is finished, we need to start on your trousseau. We can spend the rest of the summer sewing—and you can marry Horeb before we leave for the winter grazing.”

Aunt Judith brushed a hand against my cheek. “I will stand in for your mother, dear Jayden. You needn’t worry about being without a mother to watch out for you and help you plan all the details. Timnath and Hakak and Falail can all
cut fabric and sew, too.”

I smiled wanly, but no words would leave my throat.

“You know every girl is envious of you,” Hakak added. “Even if he is my brother, I have to admit that he turned out to be quite gorgeous.”

“No one can deny that,” I agreed lightly as I rose to my feet. “I actually need to find Leila now.”

“She and Falail are inseparable,” Judith mused, threading a needle to sew the ivory beads to the wedding gown. “I believe they’ve gone to visit my sister’s home. With Hakak’s wedding, I think Falail feels neglected.”

I wasn’t sure if that was actually true. The two girls had sneaked off to the tamarisk groves at our last winter camping spot, and now here at the oasis they were disappearing more often than ever. Perhaps this was Leila’s way of grieving for our mother. Or searching for a way to escape the desert life.

“They’re probably flirting with potential husbands,” Hakak said.

“I suppose I can’t do that, can I?” I added jokingly.

“You’d break my brother’s heart!”

“Not to mention this old mother’s heart,” Aunt Judith said as she jabbed her needle into the white linen.

I kissed Hakak and Judith good-bye, then slipped out the door, heading for the far side of the pond. A thick forest of trees grew beyond that, closer to Tadmur, but less than an hour’s walk. The meadow forest was probably deserted, but I had to know for myself that Leila wasn’t there.

The murmur of men’s voices sitting around hearth fires
floated on the still air. I ducked my head as I passed the women’s back-door entrances at several tents, not wanting anyone to recognize me and call out. It would be rude not to stop, and I didn’t want to sip tea and chat tonight.

Cool grasses tickled my feet. The earth was heavy and lush here. In fact, the water from the oasis underground springs was so deep and clear and fresh I could kneel at its edge and drink straight from it. Ahead, I could see the black hulking shapes of willows, tamarisks, and date palms.

I walked on, getting closer to the groves of palms and olive trees. My stomach fluttered with anticipation, wondering what I’d find. An empty forest—or my sister?

It wasn’t long before I heard the sound of laughter, faint music, and mysterious singing. Leaves rustled overhead, mimicking the sound of chattering women, as if the forest was trying to bewitch me.

The sound of a drum came next, and a few steps farther on, a small clearing came into view. I stopped, grabbing the trunk of the nearest tamarisk. Girls I didn’t recognize formed a circle, holding hands. Trees grew tall and close together, keeping the women hidden from view, like many-armed sentinels guarding them.

The girls wore flowing silk dresses with low necklines and no sleeves. Bare legs twirled. Under the moon’s silver light, their arms appeared ethereal and ghostlike.

The color of their costumes became a translucent gossamer, but underneath the flimsy, sheer dresses, the contours of their figures and bodies could clearly be seen. I shivered at the sight.
The clothing was completely different from the modest dress of the desert women. It was shameful for them to be dressed so provocatively, but it was also thrilling and beautiful, and I felt the same stirring in my body that I’d felt the night of my betrothal ceremony.

And then I saw Leila. My sister stood out, her dancing dramatic and passionate, her beauty unmatched. Falail was next to her, and I watched the silvery material of her dress flow like water about her bare legs.

The girls stepped to the right, then to the left, sweeping their arms like silent snakes. Their feet were so light it looked as though they barely touched the ground, as if at any moment they might float off into the stars.

Hips and thighs quivered as they performed staccato hip thrusts, their fingers fluttering through the air like raindrops drizzling to the earth.

One by one the girls took turns in the center to perform. I found myself sinking to the earth, unable to tear my eyes away. I wanted one of those dresses. I wanted its sensuous delicacy against my skin, reminding me of the silks spread out for Hakak’s trousseau. I wanted to adorn myself in one of those lovely gowns and dance for Kadesh in our very own private tent.

My sister stepped to the center, and the other girls trilled their enthusiasm. Soon Falail joined her and the two of them danced together, mirroring each other. The drumming grew louder and wilder. As the tempo increased, Leila and Falail shook their hips in isolated tremors. My sister raised her arms
above her head, closing her eyes in the attitude of prayer.

My breath left me. Leila’s silhouette looked just like the wooden idol hidden in the camel litter weeks ago.

Now the entire circle shimmied in the final beats of the drums. The singing became a haunting, mesmerizing chanting in my heart and my bones, deep under the earth below my feet. It took every ounce of willpower I had to stop myself from running across the grass and dancing with them.

When the drums struck a last powerful thrum, low and deep like a mountain lion growling from within the earth, every girl dropped to the ground, flinging her long hair across the grass in a vision of color and breathlessness.

That’s when I noticed a peculiar flat stone lying in the middle of the meadow. The girls had been dancing around it all this time. I’d been so entranced by their dresses and flying hair and shimmying moves I hadn’t paid any attention.

My jaw dropped as I realized the stone was an altar of worship, and on the altar stood the wooden statue Leila had with her on our journey north.

Most disturbing of all, lying next to the statue of the naked, dancing woman was my mother’s alabaster wedding box. The sight of it was like a punch in the stomach. So that’s where Leila had hidden the statue all this time. My mother’s most precious possession lying on a stone idol altar. A knot of anger and confusion rose in my stomach. I imagined our mother devastated, weeping if she knew. “How could you, Leila?” I whispered into the night air.